


Different Stars, Similar Wars

by BoudicaMuse



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Elf Luke Skywalker, Elf/Human Relationship(s), M/M, Meme inspired, Rohirrim Din Djarin, The Hobbit/The Lord of the Rings Fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:56:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29972178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoudicaMuse/pseuds/BoudicaMuse
Summary: A chance meeting and crossed paths brings Luke, prince of Mirkwood, and Din, a Rider of Rohan, together for one brief night.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 25
Kudos: 70





	Different Stars, Similar Wars

**Author's Note:**

> My friend sent me [this meme](https://spinmewriteround.tumblr.com/post/644918045279682560/i-woke-up-to-this-in-one-of-my-group-texts-and) and the rest, as they say, was tediously made up history, mostly revolving around languages. Any inaccuracies can be blamed on my very patchy memory of the LotR movies and the fact that I never made it past the Tom Bombadil part of the books.

The rebuilt Osgiliath boasted three inns and Luke took himself to the middling one of them all. Minas Tirath and all its comforts were but a half hour's ride, but then he'd be expected to present himself to his sister and the king. This would be a swift and silent trip through the land of Men and Gondor’s court bureaucracy and pageantry made hours feel like centuries. 

Leia would be disappointed with him when she learned he'd been so close and not visited and Luke cast his thoughts away from her, lest she sense his presence and make him face her disappointment now. He would just have to make it up to them when he circled back for his nephew's name day in a few months. 

His entrance into the public house below the inn caught the eyes of all but the drunkest of the tavern's patrons, but then he expected that. A cloak's hood might hide his bright hair and pointed ears, but it would never be enough to truly hide what he was among human men. Something about his presence always pricked at their senses and set them on edge. 

He settled the matter of a room with the barkeep at twice the going rate, but Luke would have no more use for the gold in the morning. Tomorrow he would cross the river and ride north. Back to the Black Gate and back into Mordor.

Another coin bought him a pint of ale and after a short internal debate, Luke asked for a second. If this was to truly be his last night of comfort before a hard and dangerous journey, Luke would not have it be a lonely one.

The man sitting in the corner farthest from the door had taken notice of his entrance, just as everyone had, but had gone back to his supper without another glance. Luke found it refreshing compared to the open stares he had grown used to while travelling in these lands. The shining armor he wore and the elaborate equine designs decorating his helm marked him as a Rider of Rohan, though the man didn’t have the fair hair and eyes that were so common among the men of the Riddermark.

Luke noted with a distant sort of alarm that made him despair for what seemed to be an irrevocable change in his tastes that the man was very handsome. Handsome, but surly, if the way he was glowering at his food was any indication. Luke's brief time in Theoden’s court was sufficient to learn how best to make friends with even the surliest of Rohirrim, however. 

“Will you share a pint of ale with a fellow veteran of Helm’s Deep?”

The Rider eyed the pint in his hand with a flat stare. “I never fought at Helm’s Deep.”

 _An elf does not gape like a trout._ It was a lesson his uncle had drummed into him centuries ago, but he had failed to provide an appropriate response to this level of astonishment. 

“How did you miss it?” Luke finally managed. There were so few to stand against the orc hordes that night, _everyone_ fought. 

“My Marshal sent me scouting north to see how far the orcs had spread.” The Rider lifted one broad shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “By the time I knew what was happening, the fighting was done.”

Luke slid into the seat opposite the man, no longer willing to wait for his permission. The desire to have this man’s story overrode his polite instincts. Many had died during the War of the Ring, even more had hidden or fled. Luke had never heard of someone simply missing it before. 

“The defense of Minas Tirith then.”

The Rider paused, then gave another reluctant half-shrug. “The very end of it. Lady Eowyn had already taken the Witch King’s head.” He frowned into his bowl. “I would have liked to have seen that.”

“And the Black Gate?” Luke nudged the second pint across the scarred tabletop. 

“I was there.” The Rider gave the drink a wary glance, as though he thought it might be poisoned, then finally lifted it to his lips. 

The ale left a wet shine on his dark mustache that he licked away with a quick dart of his tongue. Luke let his eyes linger there long enough that when he met the Rider’s equally dark eyes, there was a tinge of surprise in them. Luke wished he could also claim surprise, but this unfortunate attraction to mortal men was all too familiar by now.

“The elves weren’t with us past Helm’s Deep,” the Rider said after a moment. “The few who survived the night went home to their woods.”

Luke tilted his head and hummed. “All but two."

The Rider's expression didn't shift.

"I am Luke of Mirkwood."

At first, Luke mistook the crease in the Rider's brow for the recognition he expected his name to bring. Then he spoke and it was clear the man still had no idea who he was.

"That's a strange name for an elf."

Somewhere in the White City, Leia was laughing at him. She would have loved to call him arrogant for expecting this stranger to know him by name, as though they both were not known all over Middle Earth for their roles in the war.

"Elves often go by many names." Perhaps if he gave him the more formal _Lucenor_ , the man would recognize that. And perhaps that is exactly why he chose not to. "My friends call me Luke."

"Din," the man said after a lengthy pause. 

"That's a strange name for a man of Rohan."

The corner of Din's lips quirked upward, though he still seemed confused and wary. It was no wonder. Elves were not known for inviting conversation in crowded public houses. Elves were not known for mixing with mortals at all. Luke could blame it on his sister's influence or the stress of surviving a world-ending war, but in truth it went deeper than that. It was an urge that verged on instinct. A flaw in their bloodline if Luke's uncle was to be believed.

"I was born in a small village on the northern border of the Mark." Din took a long, bracing drink of his ale, then went on. "When I was a child, it was attacked by raiders. The Éored arrived too late to save our parents, but they made sure all of us who were orphaned by the attack were cared for in Edoras."

Din's voice was soft and full of banked emotion. Luke found himself wondering if he could recite any of the Rohirric sagas. The words would be as meaningless as the last time he had heard them, but he would have liked to listen to those rich, rolling syllables in Din's raw silk rasp.

They were both quiet amidst the clamor of the room as Luke refocused his thoughts away from his baser impulses. Then he caught and held Din's gaze. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Din's lips parted, confused again. "It was a long time ago."

And that long ago tragedy was obviously not the one that had threaded his voice with such pain and loss.

"That one, yes. We've all suffered losses in recent days, though." Luke raised his cup. "To their memory."

The confusion on Din's face fell away, revealing the wound beneath. Then he raised his cup and touched it to Luke's. "To their memory." 

They drank, Luke draining his cup in one long draft while Din stared. The confusion was back, though it had shifted to something more like puzzled amusement. Luke waited, nothing more than a questioning tilt to his brow to fill the silence. 

"You're not what I would have expected of an elf."

Luke nodded and mimicked the grand inner stillness of his grandmother. "Many have expectations of the Eldar. It is not up to me to fulfill those expectations." He broke character with a small laugh. "I find it very tiring when I try and I have a long journey ahead of me in the morning."

He could thank the Lady of Lórien for the long journey as much as the high expectations. This quest of his to ensure all traces of Sauron had finally been swept from Middle Earth had been set by her. He would never dare to deny one of his grandmother's requests, but it would have been nice to be able to put the darkness behind him and settle as Leia had. He wasn't yet ready to part with Middle Earth and sail for Valinor, but it would have been nice to have some peace and quiet after all of the clash and pain of war.

A slow smile curled at Din's lips and Luke felt his eyes lingering there once again, wondering if they would part if he pressed his tongue to the seam of them. He'd found a taste for Men and all their messy, mortal traits, but he had yet to actually _taste_ them. Would it be so different? It had been so long since Luke had bothered with taking other elves to bed that he didn't know if he could even make an honest comparison.

Din reached for both cups, now empty, and stood. "Another round?"

"Perhaps one more." Luke's eyes skimmed over Din's broad, armored shoulders and thick, strong thighs. "Before I have to find my bed."

Amusement flared in Din's expression and Luke might have felt stung at being laughed at if not for the heat building steadily behind it. Din cocked his head, his eyes drifting over Luke's body in an open assessment that left him warm and flushed.

"One more, then."

Luke watched the easy roll of his stride as he made his way to the bar. Din moved like a honed and capable warrior, one who was keenly aware of his body's abilities, and Luke's already distracted mind easily wandered to what that body was capable of off the battlefield and lingered there.

Time was short. They would both be moving on in the morning. There was some whispering voice inside of him insisting that alone should be enough to deny himself, that his first time indulging these new tastes of his should take far longer than one short night on the road. But the attraction he felt towards Din wasn't a whisper, it was a shout. It was bold and loud and it refused to be ignored. 

If Luke truly had his way, he'd want Din on a feather bed. There wouldn't be a stitch of clothing on either of them for countless days, and possibly, he'd want to make use of Leia's new palace, if only because there would be servants on hand to keep them fed. A single night at the city's second best inn would not be his choice, but it would be sufficient to test whether Din's skills as a Rider translated to more private moments.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you got this far, don't forget to leave a kudos and if you really want to make my day, leave a comment!


End file.
